


Fic: Five things that never happened to Alfred Borden and Robert Angier

by evarosen, pillstaker



Category: The Prestige (2006)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-26
Updated: 2015-06-26
Packaged: 2018-04-06 07:40:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4213515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evarosen/pseuds/evarosen, https://archiveofourown.org/users/pillstaker/pseuds/pillstaker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Have you got any magic tricks that would work for me?</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I-Overcast

Julia is fixing her hair for her best friend's funeral, and trying very hard not to meet her own eyes on the mirror. If she does, she'll have to see the knowing look in her own face, and she has worked too hard pretending not to see to give up just now, when there's less to be saved.

*

The last thing she saw inside the tank, with the water stinging her eyes and filling her lungs, was Robert's face. It was also the first thing she saw when she opened her eyes, coughing water and held tight on his arms, but he was not longer looking at her. 

She was to learn later that it had been Borden the one who got her out, that climbed up with her husband's help and smashed the fake lock. 

*

They booked their own shows after that, because no one would hire them after they, though unintentionally, revealed the fake lock while saving her life and rendered the trick useless.

Borden came to their house two weeks later, and offered a joined booking to Angier. He refused at first, still crossed over the knot, but then Borden send a note to see him in his workshop, and Robert came very late that night, with an amazed look on his face, and everythig seemed fixed between the two of them.

Three days later, The Great Danton and Le Professeur made their great first performance. Four days later, Robert would spend the night at the workshop for the first time.

She feels Robert's steps behind her, but doesn't turn. He lays a hand on her shoulder, and whispers if she wants to take Jess to the funeral. The child has been in their house since that fateful day, along with her father and his quiet assistant. She cups her gloved hands on the bracelet Sara gave her for her last birthday, and nods.

*

She had been helping Robert try in the new suit for the birdcage trick, when Sara had arrived, pale and drunk.

"Alfr...Borden is not here." Angier said, his face a mixture of guilt and discomfort. "He went with Cutter to arrange a bigger theater for us." He smiled, awkwardly. "Things are going well, with the Transported Man. We're bigger than any other show in the whole town".

"He'll come back here, though." Sara said, her voice slurred. "He rarely goes home anymore, except to take Jess out. And, of course, to take us to dine with you. I wonder why he bothers."

Angier cleared his throat. "Sara, I'm sure he..."

"He told me he needs you." She interrupted him. "And he means it, every time." She finished sadly.

Angier didn't know what to answer. "Love and need aren't the same thing." He managed at last, lamely.

"No. One seems stronger."

Angier had only watched her turn back and leave. Julia followed her outside.

"You shouldn't go home alone. Why don't you wait for him?"

"What good would it do? Today I'm not welcome." She stared at Julia with reddened eyes. "You know he's the only one allowed backstage when Alfred is to do his trick. You know what that means. I don't understand how you allow this."

Julia couldn't hold her gaze. "He saved my life. We owe him. Robert and him are very close, because of that."

Sara just shock her head at her, and kept walking.

 

(Is Cutter who finds Sara, and who delivers the new to their house. Borden is out for a stroll with Jess, and Robert goes to find him, along with Fallon, who will take the little girl away so she won't listen.

Borden stays still when he hears, and doesn't say anything at first. Robert goes to put a hand on his shoulder, and then he reacts and starts to sob, loud and wretched, and tries to pull away.

But Robert holds him fast, and keeps embracing him until he melts against him and cries on his shoulder.

She meets Fallon's gaze over the little girl's shoulder, in the distance, and she's sure she sees something she should figure out).

 

She goes through the motions like in a dream. She can still hear Sara's voice, pleading with her to leave together, saying she couldn't stand it anymore. 

She can feel her hands cupping the back of her head, see the shock on her face every time they went away together, leaving them behind.

That night she wakes up to the sound of the door closing, and walks to the hallway to see Robert knocking on their guest room, and the door opening to let him in.


	2. II. Looking Glass House

"I tell you, it's the most amazing thing you'll ever see!"

"You've been taking me to magic shows for years. What can this one have above the others?"

The man waved his hands excitedly. "He flew across the theater! And then he disappeared before the audience's very eyes. I'd never seen anything like it."

"He never saw anything like it," his companion mocked. "I bet you could have spotted the ropes on the ceiling, if you hadn't been so intent on the assistant's cleavage."

The first one glared, clearly offended. "I looked closely. I couldn't find the trick. If I didn't knew better, I'd be ready to tell I saw real magic."

"Bah!"

 

Borden came out of the theater and walked pass the men on the side of the street, a smile curving his lips. He went through darkened streets and changed his path a few times, until he finally stopped in front of a shabby workhouse with a single lantern hanging from the door, and went inside.

A tall, lean figure lifted his head from the deck of cards on his hands.

"You should have told me you'd wear the disguise," he said. "Imagine someone saw me outside and then came in here and found me."

"But no one did, did they?" The newcomer replied. "Besides, I couldn't go as Alfred Borden yet. I had to make sure." 

The other one shook his head, and two pairs of identical hands started to remove fake beards.

"So, he did it, then."

"He did."

"I didn't think he'd believe me, to be honest."

The two Bordens went to the corner of the room and retrieved their street suits, jackets and top hats. 

A tall, wide mirror dominated the farther wall, but neither of them paid the slightest attention to it. Instead, they started to change clothes face to face.

"I wonder what Tesla asked of him."

Long, nimble fingers paused on the task of fixing a shirt button.

"I think I should be more worried about what he asked of Tesla."

"Not the same thing I did."

"Obviously."

"Perhaps I should go and find out. I think he'll recognize we have a lot more to talk about now that he knows as well."

Their eyes meet, and then Borden tilted his hat and nodded at himself. The one who had arrived last spun around on his heels, walked into the large mirror and disappeared into it.

The other one covered carefully the spotless, dark surface of the glass with a thick piece of fabric, put on his cape, and went outside into the night to meet Angier, humming softly.


	3. Sum of Us

They were all defective, or maimed, and never lived long.

The first one did not last longer than an hour, while Borden observed closely every difficult breath the creature (Angier, his face perfect and unmarred, devoid of expression) took.

But this one, this was the closest to a success he ever achieved. He smiled at it (him, him), and Angier's copy looked at him. His eyes showed no recognition, but even that was good, for now. He took his hand, and guided him outside.

His brother turned his head to the side violently as they passed, and flattened himself to the wall as if he wanted to disappear through it.

This had to stop.

*

He hadn't thought about the implications, at the time, the urge to find a way, any way to save his brother overruling any other thought inside his head.

It had been easy, almost ridiculously so, to sneak into the evidence warehouse and get to the machine after Albert told him about Angier.

A little more complicated (terrifying) to get into the machine itself, and he'd admired Angier again, for a brief moment, for having done it so many times. But when he remembered what it had lead him to...No, his motives were others, and he would do it, just once.

It was almost overwhelming, the urge to scream, or do something, when he saw that himself that wasn't Albert looking at him from across the room, but he had taken a decision, and apparently the other him had too. He nodded at himself, and went to separate ways. One to find Angier. The other one to cheat Death.

*

It took all the money he had to bribe the guard for a moment alone, all the conviction he had to convince Albert in a time they didn't have to make the switch, to make him believe he wasn't sending him to die in his place, though he was, in a way. He only meet his eyes for the last time, when they finished to exchange clothes and fates, and promised to see him outside.

*

Albert kept going obsessively to the old warehouse, where the machine and the 'materials' were piling dust, when he noticed...all the copies, in their tanks, undecayed and flawless, like butterflies in ambar.

It made the blood on his veins turn to ice, and something dangerous in his head snap. Light up. He went for an axe, and kept deaf ears to his brother's every moment more vehement questions about exactly what was he moving to their back room.

Cutter went inside one time, and came out, white as a ghost, to leave without saying a word.

*

"You can't keep doing this. What if Jess comes in?"

Albert only glared at him. "It's your duty to be with her when I can't. And to keep her from harm, too."

"When you won't, you mean. This is against nature. It won't work, ever. All you will achieve is to torture those poor..things, whatever they are. They will never be him."

"You went through it. Are you meaning to say you're not yourself?" Albert said, setting his jaw stubbornly. "I saw him, talked to him.It was him."

"Whatever it is that the machine does, it doesn't do what you intend. I was alive when it...made me. So was him. It duplicates, doesn't create. It can't return something alive from something dead."

"We'll see".

*

The duplicate was gentle and docile, silent and absent. Albert even taught it a trick or two, and it mimicked them silently, but never smiled and never showed any sign of comprehension. It turned Freddie's stomach to look at it, but Albert seemed happy with his puppet. He even, to Freddie's horror, let it near Jess, as if it was another Fallon.

He didn't wanted to consider what could be taken place the times when Albert would lock himself with the creature, guiding it in and out the room with an arm around the duplicate's shoulders.

As all the other times before, it came a moment when he couldn't stand it any longer.

 

*

He went through all the motions; waited for Albert to take Jess to the park, took the pistol, followed the creature to its room. 

But this time, this time the pistol was empty.

"It's useless, pointless, and I suspect utterly painful." Angier said, and by God, it was Angier, staring at him from a chair behind Alfred's desk. 

"What...but...you!"

Angier calmly stood up, and walked near him. Freddie almost expected him to be cold as a corpse, but he could feel the warmth of his body when he stood closer still, almost touching him, nose to nose.

Angier sneaked a hand inside his own shirt, and pulled out a small pile of papers, that he handed to the stunned man in front of him.

"From all the others." He looked over Borden's shoulder, at the clock on the wall. "Go away now, the other you will be arriving soon."

Freddie, too shocked to discuss, took leave.

*

According to the writings, all the duplicates (all the ones that lived, that is) had been completely aware of their situation, and longed for death. 

And he had provided it, only to see it fooled, once and once again, at the hads of that infernal invention. He heard Albert's voice, and watched him walking in the garden, Angier at his arm, and couldn't prevent a shiver.

*

"Why...?"

"Why don't I take my own life?" Angier finished for him, the next afternoon, when Albert went out again and he found him on the garden. "Interesting question. Will it help, in any way? And besides, it would take all the fun away from you. You're becoming quite an expert."

"Stop! Enough! All this..."

"You tried to save me, in the tank. Wasn't that you? I heard you, from the balcony. And yet you killed me, so many times. Instead, he's lost so many things...that he won't give up not one more, even his enemy."

"I could...if you want.." Freddie didn't know what was he offering, but Angier seemed to make his own assumption.

"No need. He'll only bring me back. But not you. You wouldn't, would you?"

Freddie swallowed. "No. Not me"

Angier stood up, and picked the red ball he had been toying with. "Thanks." He said, embracing him. Then he left, leaving the little object on Freddie's jacket pocket.


	4. Play for today

Root hated problems. But, above all, he hated being tricked, played with, and that had been exactly what had happened. Nevermind he'd been the one to start the game. 

So that was the reason he was standing there, outside a theater, waiting for the opportunity to sneak in. He was going to find out, and maybe make a few pence, before the night was over.

*

The thing had started simply enough. He'd meet the man outside a club, the kind a gentleman frequented to meet another gentleman who would share his inclinations. 

Root would wait outside, lurking around as if he were afraid to come in, and meet suitable prays for blackmail on the men who were fool enough to believe in his spotless appearance and hight-class accent, taking him for one of his own.

The stranger made him nervous at first sight. He was used to the lascivious, hungry stares of his 'costumers' (snobs who thought they could buy him like the would a hat, even when they took him for one of their own), but this was a different kind of look, one he'd never had directed at him. 

The stranger looked at him with a mixture of longing and sorrow that made him shiver and turn away, quicken his steps and almost forget he still owed his landlord and had to stay, had to meet whatever there was expected of him.

The American accent wasn't the strangest thing he'd been asked.

*

The man (Bernard, he said, and if that was his real name Root was the prince Edward) wanted a regular service, but that was the only thing he never changed his mind about.

That, and the accent. He was rough sometimes, others gentle and loving, and there were times when he wouldn't want anything but hold him, stroke his hair and speak softly, too softly for Root to catch a word. Not that he was interested, mind you. 

It was regular money until he could find some proper work on a proper stage, and that was all.

*

It had been three weeks of the arrangement when it all went to Hell, and without explanation.

Root arrived at the shabby apartment where the encounters took place, as usual.

He went inside, and the man was already there, sitting on the bed with his usual unreadable expression. 

"Sorry to be a bit late. I oversleep." Root said, taking out his coat.

"It doesnt matt..." 

Bernard (Root called him that anyway) did a double take at him, and walked towards him so fast that he would have taken a step back if he'd had the time for it. As it was, the other had gripped his forearm before he could register the expression on his face.

Bernard lifted his wrist to eye level. His wrist, with the rope burns on it.

"Souvenir from another client." Root winced. "It's not as if you didn't know I..."

The other man pushed him away, catching him by surprise and throwing him to the floor.

"Get out. Get out of here."

"What is your bloody problem? You son of..." He froze, however, when he saw the expression on Bernard's face.

"Take your coat and leave." He pushed Root from the door, out of his way, and went first. "And don't come back."

*

It was a couple of days later, when he saw the announcement. So that's who he was. He looked like he was doing well, too. Though he looked better without the fake mustache. The Great Danton would get an unexpected visit that night.

*

The old man at the door of the dressing room stared at him with wide eyes, as if he'd seen a ghost coming out of his own grave, or something. Root made a quick check of his past clients on his head, but the face wasn't a familiar one.

Perhaps he knew him from a theater. 

He ignored him, and went to meet Alfred Borden.

*

 

"What are you doing here?" Borden asked from his chair, his tone tired.

"Just visiting an acquittance. Can't I do that? After all, you're almost a colleague. There isn't much difference between a magician and an actor. Less in your case."

"What do you want?"

"That depends. I knew I couldn't ask too much of Bernard. But Alfred Borden. He has things to lose, doesn't he?"

Borden looked at him as he would an insect. "The man outside...Cutter, is his name...will give you the sum you consider proper to never set foot here again."

Root glared at him. Such coldness! "And that's all? You act as if you never wanted it. What a laugh! Are you going back to your wife now? Pretending you are not a...?"

Borden, once again, was in motion before Root could have a chance to react, slamming him against the wall.

"Shut up! You know nothing, nothing, about what it meant, how could he even try to replace...!"

Root shoved him, knocking him to the floor, and glared down at him.

"What are you even talking about?"

Borden didn't answer. Instead, he got to his feet, and went back to his chair, breathing heavily.

His eyes wore an expression Root had never seen before, and it make him once again uncomfortable, the sensation of never having seen this man on his life.

He arranged his clothes and surveyed the room, wanting to look at anything but Borden.

His eyes stopped over an old photograph. There was his mysterious client, smiling, younger and carefree, his arm around the shoulders of another young man. Root's eyes widened. Borden followed his gaze.

"His name was Robert Angier. We were apprentices in a magician's show, and he drowned during a failed scape act."

Root realized with a start. _Scape act. Underwater. Tied wrists_. His horrified eyes met Borden's, sharp and bright with anger and self-hatred.

Borden turned and pulled the door open in front of him; then retired to the far corned and turned his back on the shacking actor.

"I...I should go." Root muttered, all thoughts of blackmail forgotten for the moment.

"You should go."

The door slammed shut, and then another form emerged from the dark corner where it'd been hiding.

"Was that necessary?"

Borden didn't respond; instead he let his fingers rest lightly on the face on the portrait, his fingers barely brushing the glass.

His brother stepped in front of him, took his hand on his, gently taking it away from his and Angier's picture. He brushed a lock of hair from Albert's face, but he didn't meet his eyes.

"He wanted the most difficult knot. You do believe me, don't you?"

Albert nodded grimly and walked past his brother, to the stage and the lights.


End file.
